Satire
by erika red
Summary: The crackfic to end all crackfics.. especially if Bobby and Alex have any say in it. A satire of some of the more.. unlikely fics. Please R&R.
1. Amuptation

_I realize I have something like four other fics I'm in the midst of, but bear with me.. I can't argue with my muse, and she was feeling snarky today.  
_

* * *

Bobby's vision blurred. Before him stood two Alex Eames.' Two, beautiful, amazing wonderful Alex's. She sighed, and pulled him into her apartment. 

"How _does_ a man of your stature wind up so thoroughly drunk only two hours after getting off work?"

"It's a plot device. And... I'm committed."

"I see that." She looked at him. He was drunk, and a bit disheveled. "Come on then, let's get you to bed."

* * *

He stood before her obediently, letting her small fingers unbutton his shirt, sliding lightly down his chest. He had tried to unbutton it himself, but failed. She pushed his shirt over his shoulders, where it fell to the floor with a soft whisper. As she reached for his belt with the resignation of a care-taker, a patient friend looking out for her drunken partner, he grabbed her wrist. 

"Sorry.." She murmured, blushing slightly.

He slid his warm hands up her arms, letting them drop to her waist. He moved closer to her, his fingers finding the hem of her shirt, and slid under it. She gasped, and looked up at him.

"Bobby, I.."

"Shh.." He kissed her, gently at first. As she raised her arms to let him slide her shirt off, and encircle his neck, the kiss became more passionate.

They both groaned when her cell phone rang loudly.

* * *

It was an ugly case, and Goren suspected the killer was still in the building. As they went to investigate, the vicious landlord cornered Goren, demanding a warrant and other such documentation. Eames snuck off to search the building, illegally. As she entererd one apartment, she held her gun in front of her. She checked each room carefully, but failed to realize her suspect was hiding in an unknowable location. As she turned to call for Goren, he was on her. The gun went off, and he kicked it across the room. 

Downstairs, Goren jumped and began ascending the stairs two at a time (the elevator was out of order). By the time he found her, it was too late.

* * *

"Miss. Eames... I'm afraid I have some bad news." 

She woke in a hospital room, a young doctor looking down at her with mock concern.

"Fortunately, you're alive. After suffering such a heinous attack... rape, being shot, then beaten, all in the incredibly short space of time before your devoted partner found you... well, it's almost a miracle you're still here. Especially because your partner was so overcome by emotion that instead of calling for a bus, which might have given us the time needed to save your left arm, or even going after the perp, or... calling for back up, he just held you in his arms and screamed helplessly, blaming God and the like for his and your suffering... I'm sorry, I digress," He smiled patiently at her, and she watched him in horror.

"What... what happened? My left arm? Bobby... what do you mean, he didn't call for a bus?"

"We think he was on crack at the time."

"Crack!" She tried to sit up, but a bolt of pain shot through her. "Bobby's not on drugs!"

"Look, this is a really difficult day for you, being raped, having your arm amputated, your partner checking out ... you should get some rest."

"No, no, wait!" She grimaced and tried to cross her arms, but only one moved.. she looked down to realize her left arm was indeed missing. "Where is he.. where's Bobby?"

"He's been waiting outside. He hasn't slept since you came in here. He blames himself."

"Can you send him in?"

"Of course."

* * *

"I can't believe this.. I don't understand what happened. Eames... why did we split up? How did you miss there was a perp hiding in the room, waiting to attack you? It was a comedy of horrible errors. I just don't understand." He groaned and hung his head, a silent sob shaking his big shoulders. 

"I don't know." Eames was quiet. "Something's not right about all of this. Bobby.. we're great cops. Well, I am, anyway. Let's be honest, you aren't exactly good at procedure."

"Fair enough, but I would have called for a fucking bus.."

"That's not what I mean." She stared at him, hard. "Look, we're New York's finest Detectives. Never lost a case. Some punk can't just do this.. I mean, what are the odds that I'd get shot, raped, and have my arm amputated? I mean, that's just.. that's just crazy!"

"It is a bit far fetched." He frowned and looked at her. "Are you.. are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"What do you think I'm suggesting?"

"I think we're in a crackfic, Eames." He watched her sadly. "I can't believe this..." He shook his head, then suddenly slammed his fist against the table, a satisfying metallic bang resounding through the room making Eames jump.

"A crackfic?" She shook her head, confusion apparent on her pretty features. "What.."

"A crackfic, Eames." He stared at her intensely. "It's what happens to good characters when bad writers decide to come up with a story. We're good characters, damn it! This would never happen to us. Ever. I can't believe this..." He shook his head and turned away from her.

"Wait, wait... wait a minute, Bobby. Sit down, okay? Just sit with me. This is a really difficult time, I know, and the doctor told me that you're taking this really hard, blaming yourself and everything, he even said something about drugs.."

"I'm not on drugs! Whoever is writing this fic must be on drugs!"

"Fic? Bobby.."

"FanFiction, Eames! God damn it!" He bellowed, pacing her hospital room.

"Would you please make sense?" Panic was beginning to rise in her, and tears pricked her eyes. Her partner was finally losing it. It was all so much, it would push anyone over the edge... but Goren was already so close to it.

"Alex, listen to me." His eyes filled with compassion, and he knelt next to her bed, taking her hand in his. "We have to get out of this fic. I don't know how, I don't know.." He shook his head. "I'm not sure how to do it. I ... I just know we have to try."

* * *

_To be continued? _  



	2. Vacation

_Thank you for all the great reviews!_

_

* * *

_As Alex recovered in the hospital over the next few weeks, her mood was decidedly maudlin. Well, maybe not mauldin, maybe justifiably depressed, but never the less, she was no happy camper. Her doctor didn't help, and over all, she just couldn't wait to get home. Bobby came to visit her frequently, but it was obvious his mind was elsewhere, which made her emotional recovery more difficult.

After a few days at home on bed rest, with Bobby coming over to make her food and help her eat, she began to feel like a human being again. That, and the ridiculous tragic romance that the two of them tiptoed around, gave her something to focus on, besides no longer having an arm.

Soon enough, it was time to return to work, and discover what the fates had in store for them. Deakins had visited Alex at the hospital, as had Carver, and Logan and Barek, and a handful of other characters from different precincts. Regardless, she had no idea what the future held for her as a part of the NYPD.

* * *

Bobby stood next to her chair, and Deakins watched her sadly from behind his desk. 

"I don't have anything to tell you yet, Alex. I just want to know what, if anything, you two would like to have happen here."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to keep you together, but if that's not what you want..." He shrugged. "Give me an idea of what you guys want to do, and I'll fight for it."

"I don't know that staying together would be possible.." Alex looked fragile and sad in her chair. Deakins refused to look at Bobby's expression.

"Alex, I know you're still recovering, but if you'd lost a leg, or become paralyzed, that would be a much more severe situation. You'd have to adapt to a prosthetic, or god forbid a wheel chair. As it is, ... you won't be able to drive as easily anymore, but I think honestly that would be the only real change that would irritate you. You'd have to practice shooting one handed --"

"Captain.." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she shook her head.

"I'm just saying that we can work around this. I'm not saying it's not going to be difficult, or that it's a minor incident.. I'm saying we want you here, and we'll do whatever it takes to keep you. Whatever you feel comfortable with --" He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. "I'm not asking for a decision now. I just want you to think about it. The reason I actually called you in here is to tell you both that you're taking mandatory leave for a month. I've got a cabin in Montana, a great little place, actually. My wife and I vacation there sometimes. I think it'll be a good way for you to get away for a while, and adjust to your new situation."

The detectives had no choice. They gratiously accepted two first class plane tickets and a keyring from the Captain. They had the weekend to pack and get ready before they had to leave.

* * *

"'_Adjust to our new situation,'"_ Eames spat, as they walked towards the SUV. They both had to pause to remember that she was sitting on the passenger side instead of him. 

"I'd adjust him for you, but I'm no use to you in prison."

"Stop making me laugh, I'm not in the mood."

He sighed.

* * *

The next few days were hectic. Goren was constantly driving back and forth between his apartment and Eames' to help her pack. It wasn't uncommon for her to become frustrated with her lack of ability to pack or fold or do any number of tasks with only one hand, and start throwing things, or shouting at him. He was relieved she didn't just curl in a ball and cry like she did at the hospital. More so, he was delighted her sarcastic and mildly sadistic doctor weren't around to assure them both that "...suicidal depression is pretty normal, actually. I mean, she just had her arm shot off, and she's a cop. That's got to suck. I mean, you guys are detectives right? I read about you in the papers. It's like, what you _do_. I'd be suicidal, too." 

When he'd glared at the little punk, the doctor just laughed. "Whoa buddy, maybe focus your attention on someone who isn't trying to help. Like to guy who shot and raped her? Oh right. You were reduced to tears and screams of vengeance. That's like, so _Dynasty_. I didn't know people did that in real life. Especially not trained cops."

* * *

Finally, they were on the plane to Montana. As they settled in for the flight, and Eames tried to read a book one handed -- she finally, gracefully allowed Bobby to supply her with tabloid magazines that lay flat -- the conversation was painfully contrived. 

"Alex,"

"Hmm." She didn't look up from _US Weekly's _article on Angelina Jolie's ultrasound.

"About what I said earlier."

"You said a lot of things earlier," She looked pointedly at him.

"The bit about this being a horrible fiction."

"You mean, the part where you justify your incompetence?"

"And yours."

"Right," She said quietly, looking down.

"None of this was supposed to happen, okay?"

"I'm scared that if I believe that.. if we believe that, we'll lose total touch with reality, and start doing really loopy shit."

"We already do loopy shit. I just think.. there might be an alternative to this."

"Bobby, I don't have an arm anymore," Though she whispered, her voice cracked slightly. "There isn't an alternative to that. We can't go back in time. I'm not a cyborg -- I can't regenerate. I mean, unless you know someone who can perform miracles.. I just.. I don't know how you expect to change what's happened."

He sighed, but didn't lose the determined look in his eyes.

* * *

"Did you bring your laptop?" He asked her, after they had begun unpacking. 

"Yeah. It's in the case next to the door." She nodded towards it.

"Deakins says the house has a wireless network, so we should be able to get online."

"Since when did you become so interested in the web?"

"Since I found a certain website, which proves my theory."

"What theory? Bobby.. if you try and get me into some weird cyber religion, I swear..."

"No, no, just wait," He watched the laptop boot up, then opened Internet Explorer. "Just watch."

He clicked the address bar, and typed in _http/ _

"Fan fiction?"

"Yeah."

"Listen, Bobby..." Before she could object, though, she was reading her own name in a story that made her blush.

"Wait, wait, that's not the one I want to show you." He muttered, hitting the back button.

"I feel .. I feel violated." She sat down on the bed. He gave her a wan smile.

"Look, read this one." He handed her the laptop, and she scrolled down, reading with ever widening eyes the very story she was in.

"Bobby.. I said all of these things.. my doctor.. Deakins.. it's all in here! Oh my god..."

"Keep reading."

"This is the worst piece of writing I've ever seen. I mean, the grammar and spelling alone is horrible."

"Do you believe me now?"

"I'm starting to.. but ... Bobby, how ... how do we change this? It's written, and ... we're .. my head hurts."

"I have an idea." His eyes gleamed now, and he grinned at her. "What if we were to ... finish the story. Alter it."

"You're no hacker."

"Yeah, but you have friends who are. I think they'd be able to hack this... RedBakaCSIflufftrooper741203 person."

Her eyes widened, and for the first time in weeks, she looked hopeful.

* * *

_A popular soap opera, back in the day._

_This fic is intended to be a mockery of every fic writer, myself included. Please R&R._


	3. Culmination

Eames listened to someone speak on her cellphone, and looked at Goren meaningfully, before saying, "Thank you, yeah, hang on a sec, okay? I gotta grab a pen..." She held the phone against her ear with her shoulder, and jotted something down. "You're a lifesaver. Really. I can't thank you enough." She clapped the phone shut and set it down on the desk, then picked up the piece of paper.

"Sounds like he hacked it."

"_She _did. Weird password, though."

"What is it?" Goren straddled a chair and sat down.

"bafluff."

"Bee Ay Fluff?"

"Yeah.. Whatever that is." She shrugged.

"Uh.." His eyes shifted to her laptop, then he shook his head.

"What?"

"Nevermind." He coughed to hide his smile.

* * *

They sat in front of the laptop, Eames nervously rubbing her thumb against her forefinger. 

"I can't type, Bobby, so ... you're gonna have to do the honors. First you need to change the password and the email address."

"Why?"

"So this person can't revert the file."

"Right." He set to typing and waited for the email. After the email change confirmation, he then changed password. "Okay."

"Good." She sighed. "How... how do we do this?"

"Should I just delete it?"

"No!" She grabbed his wrist. "What if that.. what if that deletes _us?" _

"Okay. Okay, good point." He took a deep breath. "I'll just.. open a word doc and upload it, replacing the original file."

"Okay, but maybe we should make the rewrite kind of similar? But just edit out the.. the stuff that shouldn't have happened?"

He looked at her, his brown eyes intense. "Alex.."

"Bobby, this is the only way."

He swallowed. "I'd do anything to change what happened... but ... you're alive. And you will be okay. I just.."

"I know." She said quietly, and looked down. "I'm scared too. For both of us. But.. it's ... it's silly, isn't it?"

"It probably won't even work."

"We're getting all worked up for no reason." She laughed, and he smiled. It was the first time she'd laughed, really laughed, since the accident.

She went to lie down for a nap.

"What about the story?" He'd asked.

"You go ahead and write it. I trust you." She smiled at him sadly. It _was _a longshot. A silly, childish hope.

* * *

Bobby's vision blurred. Before him stood two Alex Eames.' Two, beautiful, amazing wonderful Alex's. She sighed, and pulled him into her apartment. 

"How _does_ a man of your stature wind up so thoroughly drunk only two hours after getting off work?"

"It's a plot device. And... I'm committed."

"I see that." She looked at him. He was drunk, and a bit disheveled. "Come on then, let's get you to bed."

* * *

He stood before her obediently, letting her small fingers unbutton his shirt, sliding lightly down his chest. He had tried to unbutton it himself, but failed. She pushed his shirt over his shoulders, where it fell to the floor with a soft whisper. As she reached for his belt he grabbed her wrists. 

She looked up at him, her lips parted, preparing to ask a question, but she stopped.

He slid his warm hands up her arms, and held her shoulders. He moved closer to her, and pulled her against him.

"Bobby, I.."

"Shh.." He kissed her, gently at first. As she raised her arms to encircle his neck, the kiss became more passionate.

They reluctantly stopped when her cell phone rang. It was Deakins with a new case. They exchanged a look that belied something new: fear.

* * *

It was an ugly case, and Goren suspected the killer was still in the building. 

"He gets off on watching us. He's still here." He looked around, to see if there were any places the killer could be watching from. "Maybe he doesn't need to watch us... maybe just being here is enough..." They exchanged looks, and Eames pulled out her cell phone.

"Carver gave us the go ahead." She nodded to her partner, and they both took off. The landlord tried to stop them, but they referred him to the ADA, not without a trace of smugness. Goren opened the door of one apartment, and as they made their way through, Eames signalled him that each room was clear. Suddenly, she stopped, her gun held tight before her. She nodded towards a door, and Goren moved towards it, fast. As their suspect tried to jump out and attack Eames, Goren slammed him back against the door, the knob hitting him hard in the back. The man groaned and sank to the floor, where they cuffed him and hauled him out.

* * *

"I think that's the fastest you've ever solved a case, guys. What was it, fifteen minutes after arriving on the scene?" Deakins smiled at them, his arms crossed as he stood in front of his desk. 

"No, no, definitely twenty minutes at least," Goren said.

"Well, the guy's a creep. A dangerous creep. I'm glad you're both alright."

Goren looked at Eames. "So are we, sir."

She looked back at him, smiling slightly, though she cocked her head slightly in confusion.

* * *

_Wanna see how Goren tackles the rest of the fic?_  



	4. Flirtation

Goren typed quickly, altering the story where he saw fit. When he was finished with it, though, the story was all of a page long with no plot. It was a far cry from even fan fic standards. He paused, shifting the laptop from his lap onto the bed he had been lying on. He got up, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah." He spoke quietly.

Alex appeared, looking the polar opposite of rested. Her hair was a bit messy, and her eyes were bloodshot. She'd been crying.

"Even if Deakins fights for us.." Her voice was almost inaudible, but he heard every damn word.

"Alex.."

"You know it's true. Even if they did let me stay on, which they won't, but even if they did... what would I be? An accessory? It would be an absolute joke. It would never.. it could never.." She shrugged helplessly and shook her head.

"Listen to me." He growled, his hands hovering at her shoulders. "You aren't just a warm body."

"That's not what I'm.."

"Let me finish. I don't really understand why you wouldn't be able to do your job just as well."

"Maybe because we both fell down on the job! This wouldn't have happened if we were competent cops." She spat the words at him, and his shoulders sagged.

"What are you saying, then." He didn't meet her eyes.

"I'm saying ... I'll go on disability. I ... I'll retire."

"You'll be dead within the year," His chin shook slightly and his voice cracked. He turned away from her.

"What are you talking about?"

"This job means just as much to you as it does to me. It's your life. It's our life. I mean, for a different reason.. say you got married or had a kid or something, or just didn't want to deal with scum anymore, then yeah, fine, but because of _this? _What are you going to do? Watch tv and eat microwave dinners? Sit around feeling sorry for yourself, and mourn the fact that you'll never be able to knit, even if you wanted to?"

"You're a bastard."

"I'm telling the truth, Alex. I don't want to lose you. Professionally or .. or personally. Okay? This is the situation that we're in. I'm fucking working on figuring something out. Something crazy, yes, but still. Short of that, maybe you should consider your responsibility, instead of being so selfish."

"Selfish?" She gaped at him. "I'm being selfish? You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"If you want to curl up in a ball and mourn the rest of your life, that's your business, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and just agree to it, like it's the most sensible thing in the world. What about me, what about the work we do? What about the responsibility we have to the people in the city?"

"One of them raped me and tried to kill me."

He just shook his head, and sat down, defeated.

"Did you finish it?"

"What?" He looked up, exhausted.

"The story. Did you finish it?"

"No. I don't know what to write."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. Look, why are we even discussing it? We both know it's stupid."

"How can you not know how to write a fan fic? I read some of them, I mean.. how hard can it be, Bobby?"

"Most of them have to do with high school reunions, amnesia, and various unlikely plots regarding us getting together in various degrees. Some of them even involve us having kids and our own PI firm."

She stared at him, and then snorted, breaking into peals of laughter.

"I'm really glad you find this funny, Alex." He muttered.

"So wait, why can't you write a fan fiction?" She giggled helplessly.

"I dunno.. I write it like a normal day, only easier. Less paper work, absurdly fast cases, with us acting really cocky about it, and impressing everyone."

"We are really cocky." She bit her lip.

"So what, should I fall down a flight of stairs and suddenly develop amnesia, causing you to reveal to me that we have three kids, a house in the suburbs, and that we eloped five years ago without telling anyone?"

"That can't be a real plot," She giggled harder.

"See? Now you're starting to understand what I'm up against, here."

"Can't you just write a relatively tame story? I mean, why not have it be about a real case? Like... Tagman. That would be a great fic. It's like, perfect fic material, actually."

"That's one of the most popular cases discussed. There are a zillion fics dealing with that one."

"Jesus.." She brushed her hair out of her face.

"I could just write something really kinky." He looked up at her.

"Kinky?" Her eyebrows raised.

"Well... you know, something like.. I get really drunk and angry about my mom and a case, and all kinds of other bullshit, and you have to come pick me up at the bar, because I'm becoming politely beligerent,"

"Politely... how does that work?"

"I don't know, ask .. any of the fan fiction authors."

"Okay.. politely beligerent, go on.."

"So I'm at a bar looking miserable, but still attractive -- that's an essential part of the plot,"

"I understand." She nodded, trying to hide a smile.

"And you arrive dressed up like a classy call girl or something,"

"Oh really?" Her eyebrows shot up again.

"Well, okay, maybe a pair of nice jeans and a shirt that's open in the back with all kinds of ties and ribbons and stuff."

She made a face.

"It's one of your more popular outfits.. in the fic world."

"Christ Bobby, how many of these did you read?"

"I have to know my audience. How else do I do that except by reading the fics they write?"

"Okay, okay. Go on."

"So I'm drinking a man drink,"

"A man drink?"

"Scotch, bourbon, beer, whatever. Generally something firey on ice."

"Gotcha."

"And you come in to take me home, and invariably the male bartender hits on you."

"Invariably."

"But you're only there for me, and you notice briefly that I've got my tie off, and my shirt sleeves rolled up revealing my super buff forearms, which you find inexplicably sexy."

"Uh huh."

"And of course I can't walk straight."

"Of course."

"And you have to practically carry me home,"

"Now how do I do that? Do I have some sort of pulley system concealed in my shirt?"

"That would be interesting." He smirked. "But no, we manage through trial and error to walk, or stagger as the case may be, back to my apartment. On the way, though, I manage to pin you to a few brick walls and leer at you, which gets you really hot and bothered."

"Ah. Yes. Brick walls definitely have that effect."

"Apparently. Well, then, we get to my place, and .. you know."

"What, you're gonna leave out the good parts? I'm an invalid. I deserve to hear the good parts."

"Invalid my ... "

"Well?"

"We get it on, but generally after having an argument or something to get us really riled up."

"An argument about what?"

"Oh, anything. A case, a mean remark, whatever."

"Sheesh. It sounds like these things are just riddled with plot devices."

"Much like soap operas. I was kind of surprised."

"Huh."

"Well, anyway, you see my dilemna. I mean, I'd say we should play it safe and go the High School reunion route, but that's been done. Way done."

"Wow. I really can't see you as the type to attend reunions." She looked puzzled.

"Well, I'm not, and I'm not inclined in the fics, either. You are."

"Me? You're kidding, right? I had about as much patience for highschool as I had for frat parties: zero."

"Yeah, well, tell them that. Anyway, the reunion ones weren't all that far fetched."

"Did we make out in them?"

"Yeah."

"Then they're far fetched."

"Do you not remember getting hot and heavy the other night?"

"What, that's suddenly in character, despite all the other decidedly OUT of character shit we've been up to in recent history?"

"Okay, okay.. I left a little kissing in, though. .. In my revision."

"Oh fun."

"Hey, I'm a good kisser."

"Right."

"I am."

"Write the fic, Bobby. Just .. write it." She sighed. "It probably won't make any difference anyway." She smiled slightly.


	5. Temptation

_It should be noted that with few exceptions, the fics that I poke fun at in this story are ones I've read and very much enjoyed. At the risk of "pissing off a few people" I'll take the advice of my reviewers and keep on. ;) enjoy._

_

* * *

_"Here," Goren handed her a glass with ice in it. He'd made her a "man drink," or as he described it, "something firey over ice." She took it, gratefully.

"Assuming this works.." She looked up at him.

They were both seated on a couch, Goren had the laptop on his knees.

"Assuming this works, I can't write it without you." He looked at her. "It would be like working without you. I'd get lost. Succumb to my own ... weaknesses."

"You'd play god."

"Well, _yeah. _Wouldn't you?"

She swallowed. "I don't know. I just want it to work." She took a sip of her drink and grimaced lightly, moving closer to him, so that she could see the screen.

* * *

"Good news, you two." Deakins smiled at them. "You've won the NYPD raffle." 

"There's a raffle?" Goren raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. And you won it. Congratulations. You're spending a week in a cabin in Montana. First class tickets. You leave Monday."

"What, no car?" Eames stared at Deakins, her response an automatic reaction.

"No, not this time, that was last year." Deakins smiled.

"Isn't that against.. policy or something to confine partners to a cabin for an entire week?"

"It's a very big cabin."

"Oh, well.." Eames rolled her eyes. "In _that _case,"

"You know, I take some offense to that."

"I just envisioned a vacation would mean getting away from work, not taking my partner with me. No offense intended."

Goren put his hand over his heart and mouthed, "I'm heartbroken," at her.

"All right, all right, you can tease each other all you want on the plane. Until then, work."

* * *

"There is no NYPD raffle. Deakins would never send us to Montana." 

"Eames, you have to suspend your disbelief." Bobby swirled his drink thoughtfully.

"I'm suspending it. We still don't have a plot."

"Fluff doesn't have to have a plot."

"Oh. Like porn."

"Well.. yeah." He shrugged helplessly.

* * *

The plane ride was long and uneventful. After a minor delay, they were airborne, and slept for most of it. Arriving tired, slightly sore from sleeping in weird positions, and by and large grumpy,

* * *

"Do you really think we'd be grumpy? I mean, I'm not a grumpy person." 

"Oh yes you are."

"Grumpy? You'd really say grumpy?"

"Fine, we're just tired and sore, then."

"Okay." He hit the delete key.

* * *

Arriving tired, and slightly sore from sleeping in weird positions, they found their luggage and got their rental car. 

"Where are we going?"

"Um.. hang on, I've got the directions."

"Captain navigation, you are."

"All right, lieutenant."

Eames laughed and turned on the map light. The sun was setting, and the view was actually quite nice.

"You know.. we might actually have fun."

Goren gasped, feigning shock.

* * *

"That was kind of good, actually." 

"It was kind of pointless, too."

"And fan fiction is chock full of poignant social observations... about us getting our freak on?"

"Point taken."

* * *

They unlocked the door to the cabin which was indeed large, and almost luxurious. 

"Wow. I'll won't argue if I win the NYPD raffle again."

"Let's hope it's not a car next time."

"Spoilsport."

"Hey, I wouldn't want to share custody of a car with you, Eames. I'd never get to drive it."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. They both separated to find rooms and unpack. When Eames came out of her bedroom, stepped into the hall which was open and looked down onto the main room, which also had a fireplace, a fire was crackling merrily in it.

Goren was in the kitchen, sipping a beer when she came in.

"Wow, this place is great!" She said as she opened the fridge.

"If I knew you were impressed by a stocked fridge, I wouldn't spend my money on nice ties and cologne."

She rolled her eyes.

* * *

"That's so worthy of an eye roll, too." 

"It wasn't that bad."

"You'd never really say that to me, though."

"Yeah, well.."

"Bobby, if this works, we're going to be living that. Saying those things, doing that stuff... I mean. If we're going in that direction..." She bit her lip.

"It should be good?"

"Well, _yeah, _but more than that, it should mean something. We're going to affect the rest of our lives with this fic, unless we want to keep rewriting history. Personally, I just want to get on with it, you know?" She took a deep breath.

"What do you want to have happen?" His eyes looked into hers, and she was, for a brief moment, unsure.

"I just want things to get back to normal." She looked away.

"Okay." He shifted to start typing again, his arm moving against hers.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah." He didn't look up from where he was highlighting text.

"Would you.. I mean, do you.." She licked her lips. "What do you want?"

"I _don't _want to force something. That's the last thing I want." The low fierceness with which he spoke relieved her.

"I meant it when I said I trust you." She took another burning sip of her drink. "I do."

"I know. Which is why I won't write this without you. And we don't _have _to do anything."

"We could do this."

"Write fan fiction? Alex.. somehow I don't think a story about us writing fan fiction is going to amuse anyone."

"No, I mean.. sit. Together. Be close. Like we are."

"Okay."

* * *

After a light dinner, Goren set a fire in the fireplace, and sat next to Eames on the couch. 

"This is nice." She smiled at him.

"Yeah." He smiled back.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Is there a tv in here?" Bobby looked around.

"Oh yeah.." Alex grinned and picked up a remote. Hitting a button, a flat screen tv descended from the ceiling, hovering over the fireplace.

"God damn. That's beautiful."

"Boys and their toys..." She laughed.

They watched a half an hour comedy show, then a crime drama. Goren had his feet propped up on the coffee table, Eames had hers curled on the couch. She leaned against him, her eyes closing. Soon enough, they were both sound asleep.

* * *

"I think that's good for a first chapter." 

"We have to write more?"

"I was thinking of just posting it. You know, see what happens." He shrugged.

"Do you think.." She looked at the laptop. "Do you think that if we post it, I mean, if it works... we'd _become _the revised story and just... write it ourselves? I mean, we're already writing it now."

"I think that would be ideal."

Eames nodded. Bobby uploaded the file.

"Are you ready?"

"I hope so." She took a deep breath.

"If.. something goes wrong.. if.. I don't know, we combust or something." He looked at her. "I love you." He said it without expecting a response, or trailing off. She leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you too."

He replaced the file.


	6. Fuck Rhyming

She was hot. Not uncomfortably so, but definitely warmer than usual. Her cheeks were flushed. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was curled up next to her partner.

"Hey," He said softly, his eyes barely open.

"Hey yourself. We fell asleep."

"Yeah. I think it's the first time I've really relaxed.. since.. I can't remember when."

She smiled, and looked over at the glow of the fire place.

"I definitely need to get one of those."

He laughed, and stood up.

"I'm getting another beer. You want one?"

"Yeah, actually." She too got up, stretching.

She walked over to the stereo, and started pushing buttons.

"Oh my god, Bobby, there's satellite radio here!"

"Christ. I'm never going to want to go home."

"You can say that again." She took the cold beer he handed her.

"Are you playing DJ?"

"Of course. I have better taste than you do." She smiled. "Ooh.. Etta James.. I _love _Etta James."

He watched her, as she turned up the volume. The acoustics in the cabin were nothing short of fabulous. The bass was deep without vibrating anything, and the entire room not to mention the house was filled with sound.

After _One for my Baby, _a slower song came on.

_Someday he'll come along, the man I love_

_And he'll be big and strong, the man I love_

_And when he comes my way, I'll do my best to make him stay_

_He'll look at me and smile, I'll understand_

_And in a little while, he'll take my hand_

_And though it seems absurd, I know we both won't say a word_

She turned and smiled at him. He held his hands out, as if offering something. "Dance?" He mouthed. She smiled again, and stepped forward, setting her beer down. She put her hands in his, and they swayed slowly. The steps they took were no steps in particular. She leaned her forehead against his chest, and as the song came to an end, they just stood for a moment.

"Bobby," She said very softly, as she looked up at him.

"Yeah." He looked down at her.

"We did it."

He nodded slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. His big hands cupped her face, tilting her chin up towards him. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"This is real."

She kissed him back, softly.

* * *

"Wait, they're _where?" _Deakins rubbed his forehead. "I sent them.. I didn't even know we _had _a raffle." He listened to the person on the phone, and stared at his desk, his brow furrowed. "Well, they'll be back in a week, right? ... How does one enter this raffle, anyway? Oh, it's an NYPD thing? .. I guess you're right. Yeah, I probably could use some rest." 

He hung up and shook his head. "Crazy." He muttered, then shrugged.


End file.
